Is goodwill so fragile, so precarious a thing, then? (Of course, dear fellow, of course) - Milan Kundera

A long time ago, man would listen in amazement to the sound of regular beats in
his chest, never suspecting what they were. He was unable to identify himself
with so alien and unfamiliar an object as the body. The body was a cage, and
inside that cage was something which looked, listened, feared, thought, and
marveled; that something, that remainder left over after the body had been
accounted for, was the soul.

For the body is temporal and thought is eternal and the shimmering essence of flame is an image of thought.

Every love relationship rests on an unwritten agreement unthinkingly concluded by the lovers in the first weeks of their love. They are still in a kind of dream but at the same time, without knowing it, are drawing up, like uncompromising lawyers, the detailed clauses of their contract. O lovers! Be careful in those dangerous first days! Once you've brought breakfast in bed you'll have to bring it forever, unless you want to be accused of lovelessness and betrayal.